


Love Doesn't Have to be a Shout

by orderlychaos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint and Phil saying I love you, Fluff, M/M, Quietly, seriously just sweet fluff, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>  It probably wasn’t very adventurous of him, but Phil had always preferred quiet moments like this, just him and Clint on the couch, cuddled close, and something mindless on the TV.  From the way Clint burrowed under Phil’s arm, prompting several careful moments of juggling plates and cutlery, Clint liked the quiet moments too. </em>
</p>
<p>Sometimes saying "I love you" doesn't have to come with drama or the expectation of saying it back.  Sometimes it's just nice to let someone know they're loved.</p>
<p>Phil and Clint confess their feelings to each other.  Quietly.</p>
<p>(Complete fluff.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Doesn't Have to be a Shout

**Author's Note:**

  * For [totalnerdatheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/totalnerdatheart/gifts).



> This is for totalnerdatheart, based on a conversation that we had the other week on tumblr. I hope this is what you were meaning and sorry it took so long :)
> 
> Thanks, as always, to Henry, for giving me the idea for the second scene. And thanks to Ralkana, who looked over it for me <3

With a soft sigh, Phil Coulson tossed his keys into the small dish on the hall table, grateful to be home.  There was a dull headache throbbing at his temples -- a product of his long, annoying day -- but even so, Phil’s lips twitched up into a smile at the battered bag that had been dumped by the door and the combat boots piled haphazardly next to it.  The small traces of Clint’s presence loosened some of the tension in Phil’s shoulders, the novelty of coming home to find Clint in his apartment still new enough to make Phil’s heart beat a little faster.  He and Clint had been friends for a long time before they’d tried for anything more, but their relationship had only changed a few months ago and Phil still had moments where he had to pinch himself.  He wasn’t used to getting everything he wanted.

Pulling off his tie, Phil left his briefcase and coat by the door and headed further into the apartment.  He could hear the low murmur of the TV and he knew that Clint would have heard him come in.  “Clint?” Phil called out softly.

Clint didn’t answer and when Phil rounded the back of the couch, he found out why.  Smiling fondly at the familiar shape curled up on the couch, Phil reminded himself that it wasn’t a good idea to call agents of Clint’s caliber adorable, even if it was undeniably true.  Clint had burrowed into the nest of blankets he’d made until only a tuft of his hair was sticking out the top.  Just like always, something curled tight in Phil’s chest at the fact that Clint had relaxed enough to lower his guard and nap on Phil’s couch.  When Clint didn’t stir, Phil pushed away from the doorway and headed towards his bedroom to hang up his suit and grab a shower.  His muscles were tense after a long day of being hunched over his desk, which hadn’t been helped by the small crisis Hill had pulled him into help manage on one of the current SHIELD ops in Northern Africa.

Ten minutes later, Phil stepped out of the bathroom in a pair of loose sleep pants and his old Rangers t-shirt, much more comfortable after he’d washed away the stress and grime of his long day.  He wandered into the kitchen, his stomach beginning to emphasise how long it had been since Phil had last eaten.  While he wasn’t the amazing cook Clint was, Phil wasn’t completely hopeless in the kitchen either.  He could definitely handle heating up the leftover lasagne and making a simple salad.

The rough sound of Clint calling his name drew Phil into the living room again and he smiled when he saw Clint blinking sleepily at him, the blankets now tucked under Clint’s chin.  “Hey,” Phil greeted quietly, sinking down onto the arm of the couch.  He slid his fingers into Clint’s hair and scratched gently.  Clint hummed happily and pressed closer to the touch.  “Are you hungry?”

Clint opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, his stomach gave a very loud rumble.  Phil bit back a smile as Clint ducked his head.  “Ah… yeah.  I guess I am,” Clint replied.

The beep of the microwave drew Phil’s attention back to the kitchen.  Climbing reluctantly back to his feet, he headed over to serve both Clint and himself dinner, bringing the two plates back to the couch.  By the time he got back, Clint was sitting up, the blankets pushed aside just enough for Phil to squeeze in next to Clint.  Phil couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he settled himself into the space Clint had made and Clint wrapped the blankets around both of them.  It probably wasn’t very adventurous of him, but Phil had always preferred quiet moments like this, just him and Clint on the couch, cuddled close, and something mindless on the TV.  From the way Clint burrowed under Phil’s arm, prompting several careful moments of juggling plates and cutlery, Clint liked the quiet moments too.

Dinner was mostly quiet, the exhaustion hitting Phil as he sank further and further into the couch.  When he gave a jaw-cracking yawn, Clint had to lean forward to snatch up Phil’s mostly-empty plate before it slid off his lap.  “Time for bed?” Clint suggested, amusement lighting his amazingly multi-colored eyes.

“That’s a probably a good idea,” Phil agreed, moving to stand and somehow getting tangled enough in the blankets that he almost stumbled into the coffee table.

Chuckling quietly, Clint caught him by the t-shirt and pulled Phil in for a soft kiss.  “If only the junior agents could see you now,” Clint said when he pulled back.

Phil rolled his eyes.  “Shut up,” he grumbled.

As he stood up again and gathered up the plates, Phil felt the particular heavy sensation of Clint’s eyes on him.  Turning back, plates balanced in his hands, Phil raised an eyebrow questioningly.  “Everything okay?” he asked.

Ducking his head slightly, Clint shrugged.  “It’s just…” he said, his voice a little rough.  “It hits me sometimes.  How much I love you.”

Warmth spread through Phil’s chest and there was no force in the universe that could have kept the smile from his face.  Phil didn’t pretend that he hadn’t already known how Clint felt.  For those who looked past the sarcasm and smartass comments, Clint wore his heart on his sleeve.  Clint had already told Phil that he was loved in a million different ways, but hearing the words aloud and stated like a incontrovertible fact still had Phil’s stomach swooping and his heart pounding in his chest.  He swallowed down the words that bubbled up in his chest, knowing Clint wouldn’t want Phil to make a big deal about his confession.  “Don’t think this means you’re getting out of helping me with the dishes,” he said, resisting the urge to clear his throat.

Clint huffed, looking up at Phil from the couch with big, puppy dog eyes.  “Can’t we just leave them until tomorrow?” he said.

Phil arched an eyebrow.  Knowing his and Clint’s luck, they’d be called out on a mission in the early hours of the morning and come back home to mold.  “No,” he said.  “Come on.”

Grumbling, Clint let Phil pull him to his feet and nudge him in the direction of the kitchen.

~*~

True to Phil’s prediction, the phone rang just after five the next morning.  Getting by on the minimum amount of sleep possible was not uncommon for a field agent, so Phil and Clint scrambled into their clothes, packed their gear and headed into SHIELD to be briefed on the latest threat to global security.  Four hours later, Phil managed to catch Clint in the middle of the tarmac before Clint headed off to take command of one of the strike teams and Phil joined Maria in the operational command center.  Tangling their fingers together, Phil tugged Clint close, uncaring of the few junior agents who were staring.  Clint’s mouth twitched into a small smile at the move, and for a long moment, they just stood close, buffeted by the cold wind and the breeze from the quinjet engines.

Resting his forehead briefly against Clint’s, Phil resisted telling Clint to watch his back or stay safe because Clint already knew -- and more than that, Clint was a dedicated and highly skilled field agent.  If Clint could come back in one piece, he would.  There was something Phil needed to say before Clint rushed headlong into danger, however.  It wasn’t that he didn’t think Clint already knew, it was more that Phil wanted to have to words spoken aloud and unmistakable.  “You know I love you too, right?” he said quietly, his words barely loud enough not to be snatched away by the wind.

Clint hummed, a happy, soft smile curving across his face.  “Yeah, Phil,” he said.  “I know.”  Leaning in, he pressed a short, tender kiss to Phil’s lips.  “You think we’ll make it back home in time to get pizza for dinner?”

Phil chuckled, insanely grateful to have this man in his life.  For a moment, Phil could see his life stretched out in front of him, quiet moments like this one interspersed between bursts of the insanity and chaos that came with being a SHIELD agent.  “No idea,” he replied, “but if we don’t, we can have it for breakfast instead.”

That earned Phil another kiss.  “Awesome,” Clint said with a grin, before he jerked a finger over his shoulder.  “I’d better get my ass to the ‘jet before someone gets cranky.”

Still smiling, Phil let him go.  “You had,” he said.

“Catch you over the comms later?” Clint called out, beginning to job backwards towards the quinjet waiting for him.

“Always,” Phil called back.

Clint’s answering smile was like a promise.

  
Fin.


End file.
